A Family of Me
by ComeToMeGarnet
Summary: Words are said, trust is broken. Harry leaves, knowing that he always has been and always will be alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello…welcome to my first story…geez I'm nervous.**

**Okay, I haven't really written anything before, so some constructive criticism would be appreciated…thanks. **

**I was actually encouraged to write this by one of my friends after I asked her to write my idea. Err, she kinda said I have to do it myself though, so here I am. **

**Please check out my friend's (graveofbutterflies) stories coz they are pretty great from what I have seen, but then again, I'm her friend so I have to say that.**

**Anyway, I'm rambling…**

**Please tell me what you think of this story (again) and thanks in advance.**

**ThisIsMomUniverse —**

Two months.

Harry realised this with a jolt as he glanced at the calendar on Ron's wall. He dropped the snitch with a clatter onto the floor as he read the number in the small box.

It had been two months.

_Two months_.

Raking a trembling hand through his messy hair, he collapsed onto Ron's bed, the snitch lying forgotten on the worn carpet. Breathing in deeply, Harry sank to the floor, blinking rapidly to rid the water in his eyes.

It had been two months. And he hadn't even noticed.

Two months since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Two months since…

_Two months._

The Burrow had been oddly quiet during those two months of mourning. Laughter was rare around the house. Happiness was limited. Everyone had been quiet – even the ghoul in the attic.

Getting past his shock, Harry buried himself with collecting the snitch off the floor and putting it back into his pocket. Below, murmured conversation and clangs of cutlery were sounded; as far as he knew, he was the only one not downstairs, joining the Weasley's.

_I wouldn't even be in this house, _Harry reminded himself, _if Ron and Hermione didn't make me stay._

Slowly, Harry leant against the bed frame, closing his eyes. Maybe he would eat later, when there wasn't as many people at the table. He couldn't handle all the stares that would follow him into the kitchen, not now.

Though he knew that the Weasley's didn't blame him, Harry didn't want to see the expressionless faces that would always come when someone mentioned Fred. He didn't want to be reassured, again and again, that it "wasn't his fault" and "he died the way he lived". Because it _was _his fault – none of this would've happened if it wasn't for him. _He _brought the battle to Hogwarts. _He _didn't protect Fred. _He _didn't think to grab the horcruxes secretly instead of being detected. All was all his fault.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the posters that decorated the ceiling. Though he himself wasn't hungry, Mrs Weasley was bound to send someone up to get him and drag him downstairs. Harry just hoped it wasn't George – he couldn't bring himself to look into his deadened eyes again.

"Harry?"

Sure enough, the door had opened (without him realising) and Harry didn't react to Ron's voice, but carried on staring at the ceiling.

"Mum says you gotta eat something…" Ron moved across the room, sitting on the edge of his bed. Like his family, Ron's eyes were full of grief for his dead brother, and Harry could hear a slight tremble in his voice – he too had realised what day it was.

"Not really hungry." Harry replied, feeling it was the least he could do. To his surprise, Ron agreed.

"Me neither, really – just don't want Mum worrying 'bout something else…" Harry looked over at Ron, who was staring at the floor. He moved to a sitting position so his friend could have more space. Ron muttered a small "thanks" and shuffled further into his bed. They sat in silence for a while, deep in their own thoughts.

"Did you know that today is…" Ron said suddenly, trailing off. Harry could see a few tears glisten in his eyes.

"Yeah. I did." Harry replied softly, moving closer to his friend. He glanced back at the calendar. "I did."

"It's moved strangely, hasn't it?" Ron voiced Harry's next thought. "Some days, it was really slow, but other days…"

"It was quick." Harry finished. "Yeah, it has moved strangely." He saw that Ron looked close to crying again, but was stubbornly not letting any tears fall.

"You notice things, don't you? When someone's gone forever…" Ron sniffed, looking at the wall.

"No more loud jokes." Harry mumbled.

"No more bangs." Ron added.

"No more stolen cars." Harry said, smiling at the memory. Ron gave a weak snort of laugher, which turned into a chocked sob. Harry moved closer to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"It's okay, you know." Harry whispered whilst he watched Ron try and hold back the tears. "It's okay to cry."

At these words, Ron (very suddenly) began to actually _cry_ – not a delicate cry seen in movies, but what was called an "ugly cry". Ron looked a complete mess, but was actually _feeling_, which was more than Harry was doing. Harry just felt numb. Even so, he smiled gently as he pulled Ron closer, watching as he didn't protest, like he had done the other time he cried.

"I just miss him, y'know?" Ron muttered, wiping away his tears. Harry did know. "I never thought that…heck, I don't even mind if he turns another teddy bear of mine into a spider, as long as he's there, laughing at me."

Harry understood. The snitch fluttered slightly in his pocket as he shifted uncomfortably as his guilt (that had been ditched as soon as Ron began to cry) washed on him in waves.

Only if he protected Fred.

Only if he didn't bring the battle to Hogwarts.

Only if, only if, only if, only if.

Harry didn't imagine himself feeling worse than he had done when Sirius died – another fault of his – but he hadn't predicted Fred dying, either. Never predicted his family's reaction to the news.

He could still see it vividly in his mind: George, slumped next to his dead twin; Ron, staring in disbelief; Mr and Mrs Weasley, crying shamelessly; Ginny, eyes brimmed with tears; Percy, shouting and screaming his brother's name –

Harry turned his focus back on Ron, who seemed to have calmed down. Tears were still running silently down his face.

"It just seems that it will never get better." He whispered, looking down at the floor again. Harry knew. Harry understood.

"I understand." He said calmly, fighting the emotional battle to burst into tears with Ron. "I…understand."

"Do you?" Ron said suddenly, looking at Harry, his face unreadable. Harry felt himself flinch slightly under his gaze.

_Did he?_

"What do you mean?" Harry forced his voice to stay calm. Cold, even. This only seemed to aggravate Ron more.

"Do you…" Ron seemed to struggle with his words, pushing away from Harry. "How do you know what it feels like?"

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron cut him off.

"You don't have any brothers or sisters." Ron's voice was dangerously low. "You wouldn't understand."

_He's just upset,_ Harry thought repetitively, _he doesn't mean any of it._

"I still care for Fred." Harry found himself replying, his voice slightly raised. "I care for him like a brother a –"

"—Your not his brother though, are you?!" Ron's voice level matched Harry's. "You. Don't. Know. What. It's. Like!"

"I do! I still miss him!" Harry found himself raising his voice.

"So it's a completion of 'who cares for Fred more', is it?!" Ron snapped.

"No! Ron, I didn't mean –"

"What did you mean then?"

"I've always cared for Fred, Ron –"

Ron snorted, anger flashing in his eyes. Harry reeled back, surprised at the sudden anger.

"You don't even have a family!" His friend spat, glaring. "You don't –"

"I wished for a family, Ron!" Harry blurted, voice raising into something similar to a hysterical scream. Ron was shocked into silence. "I always wished that I could have someone to care for, for someone to care for me –"

Ron suddenly gave a cruel, uncharacteristic laugh.

"No wonder they didn't come true then." Harry blinked at Ron, feeling something tighten in his chest. But Ron wasn't finished.

"I certainly wouldn't give a wish to a murderer."

Harry froze, breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, trying so say something, _anything _to deny it, but Ron had got up quickly and left the room.

Harry raked his hand through his hair again, watching Ron's back disappear in the doorway, feeling like the snitch that was struggling in his pocket.

_Ron didn't mean it,_ a small, hopeful voice tried to say. _He is just upset._

But Ron _must've _meant it – the words sounded too true, too confident.

He, Harry Potter, was a murderer.

He had known it for some time now, but something was holding him back from making the truth take over him completely. But now the truth couldn't be hidden.

He didn't understand like Ron did. He didn't have a family.

For a few blissful years Harry had let himself believe that the Weasley's had became something like a family to him – they behaved like he saw how other families behaved, and they actually seemed to like him. But he should've known better.

_It was never meant to be this way._ _I should've never…_

He needed to leave. Now.

It wasn't for some stupid, noble reason. Maybe it was. But Harry couldn't stay in a place where he didn't belong.

Slowly, Harry moved over to the small window and began to fiddle with the hatch, forgetting about his possessions.

_You prat!_ A voice sounded in his head. It was suspiciously like Hermione's. _You're really leaving because of Ron's stupid words!_

Harry paused. The Weasley's has been good to him over the years. This was much more difficult than leaving the Dursleys. Would they miss him?

_They have each other. Families stick together. _Harry reminded himself. He resumed opening the window. _I am not. I am my own family._

Finally, the latch opened, letting in the cold, winter air. Harry shivered, hopping onto the windowsill.

"This is for the best. For me and for them." Harry muttered to himself, jumping out of the window. He didn't look back.

_I am a family of me._

**Tell me what you think. Depending on reviews, I will decide whether to continue with this or not, because I'm not sure it's that great.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone that is reading this…**

**I don't really know what else to put here apart from "I hope you enjoy this chapter." So I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Ron was the world's biggest prat. Ever.

This fact didn't occur to him straight away, however. Ron hadn't even thought of the weight of his words to Harry till much, much later.

After his shouting match with his friend, Ron came crashing downstairs, joining his family back at the table.

It came to no surprise that none of his parents or siblings were eating or talking much. Ron, still in a silent rage, slipped into his chair unnoticed and began to poke at his food. Stupid Harry. He didn't understand.

"Where's Harry?" His mother's question pulled him out of his brooding. Without looking up at the carrot on his plate, he replied.

"He said he wasn't hungry." Well, that part was true.

"Are you sure, Ronald Weasley?" He could feel his mother's powerful glare though his head was bent. Her voice had turned dangerously cold. "It sounded like you were arguing up there."

"You were arguing? Oh, Ron!" Hermione was sitting beside him, her fork having stopped a few inches away from her mouth. Ron gritted his teeth.

"Yeah, we were." He replied, and mist if his family gasped.

"That's the last thing we need." His father muttered, sighing. It was barely heard over his mother's raised voice.

"You better not have – " she snarled. Ron cut her off hurriedly, paling slightly.

"No, it was nothing serious, okay?" He explained, looking back down at his plate. "If you must know, I was trying to get him to eat!" If his family were looking closely, they would've seen Ron's ears turn slightly pink at the lie.

"Oh." His mother seemed to deflate slightly. "I hope you weren't too hard on him."

"No, Mum." Ron sighed, shoving the carrot into his mouth.

"That didn't sound like "I was trying to get him to eat" to me." Hermione hissed in his ear. Ron swatted her away.

"Give it a rest, Hermione." He said, shovelling some chicken into his mouth. Hermione sighed in annoyance, but left him alone.

Ron paused in mid bite, thinking back to the argument. Looking back, it was strange that Harry didn't try and defend himself much during Ron's rant – when they had fallen out in their fourth year Harry had been quick to argue, sometimes getting the better of him.

Ron thought back to what he said.

_Maybe that was a bit too harsh…_a small voice said in his head. Ron didn't know what to think. He remembered Harry's face, expressionless. Not upset. Not grieving. Just expressionless. It looked like his friend didn't care much at all.

_He deserved it._ Ron thought stubbornly. _He doesn't understand._

Still, that uncomfortable feeling never left him, and he didn't finish his food.

Once the meal was over, Ron was one if the first to leave the table and he now was staring at the fire in front of him. Percy was the only other in the room, sitting in a squashy armchair; the rest of his family had shut themselves into their rooms or were busting themselves with jobs.

Ron let out a growl of annoyance, twisting the carpet violently in his hands. The anger had resurfaced at twice the amount.

Ron didn't know how long he sat by the fire, but he knew Percy had left the room at one point, leaving him alone. The room was oddly silent like the rest of his house, reminding Ron painfully of the absence of bangs coming from one of the rooms above.

"Hey."

Ron looked over his shoulder and found Hermione walking towards him with a soft expression on her face.

"Hi." He said somewhat moodily, still brooding about The Argument. Hermione sat down beside him, leaning against his shoulder.

"How are you?" She asked gently, staring into the fire.

"Fine." Ron was lying through his teeth. Hermione seemed to sense this but didn't intrude.

"I've wrote to my mum and dad." She said, fiddling with her jumper sleeve. "They say I can stay here for another week."

"Thanks." Ron breathed. Hermione gave a weak smile. They sat in silence for a little while longer. Ron could tell something was still troubling her, and after a few more minutes he couldn't hold in the question any longer.

"What is it?" He asked suddenly, staring at Hermione. Hermione sighed.

"I'm just worried about Harry." She muttered. Ron growled slightly.

"He's fine." He replied stubbornly. "If you're so concerned, go find him."

"I tried, Ron!" He was shocked at the small panic in her voice. "After dinner I went to your room and he wasn't there!"

"He was probably out for a walk." Ron couldn't bring himself to care. Hermione seemed to get the unsaid message.

"Ron Weasley, you still have the emotional range of a teaspoon!" She said, her voiced raised. "You don't –"

"What are you going on about?!" Ron asked, bewildered.

"Harry! What you said to him!" Hermione drew away from Ron and looked him in the eyes. He squirmed under her gaze.

"He deserved it, he said –"

"Look Ron." Hermione said, sighing. "I don't know what you said to him, but I think you should apologise."

"Why?" Ron asked, looking away.

"Just…think about what you said to him. He has feelings too." Hermione stood up and walked out of the room. Ron could feel her gaze on his back as she left.

_Think about what you said to him._

Ron thought back to the argument. He was angry, and couldn't recall much of what he said, or what Harry says for that matter, but he knew he wanted to hurt his friend. He wanted to see him _cry _for once.

"I wasn't mean." Ron tried to reassure himself, picking at the carpet moodily. He tried to be angry at Harry again – it was easier – but something that his friend had said earlier was haunting him.

"_I wished for a family, Ron!"_

With a feeling like getting plunged into cold water, Ron remembered what he had foolishly said back.

"_I wouldn't give a wish to a murderer."_

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Ron stood up quickly, rushing out of the room.

Officially, he was the world's biggest prat.

Ron ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He needed to fix this.

Contrary to belief, Ron didn't have the emotional range of a teaspoon all of the time – only when he was angry. And now he was wishing that he did, so he could stop feeling the guilt and shame clawing inside of him.

Ron tripped on the last stair and fell flat on his face, forgetting to use his arms. Groaning, he pushed himself onto his knees, rubbing his nose. Scrambling quickly onto his feet, he leapt to his bedroom door and stopped just as quickly, rehearsing what he was going to say.

"Err…Harry?" Ron said quietly, hesitating behind the door. Harry didn't answer. "Can I come in, mate?" Still, no answer. "I'm coming in anyway." Taking a deep breath, Ron pushed the door open slowly and entered the room. He was expecting Harry to be lying on the bed, or sitting on the floor. However, after a quick scan of the room it was obvious that his friend wasn't in there.

Ron shivered as a gust of wind tousled his hair. Cursing, he saw that his window was wide open, letting in the cold winter air.

"Why is it…?" Ron muttered. He moved to shut the window, but an unpleasant jolt of understanding stopped him. He cursed loudly and ran out of the room once more, practically throwing himself down the stairs.

_He couldn't have, there's no way…no…_

Ron slammed into his mother, almost knocking her over.

"What is it?" His mother said, noticing that something was wrong immediately.

"Have you seen Harry?" Ron asked breathlessly. His heart sank as his mother shook her head. Without listening to her reply, the redhead ran past her and to the front door.

"Ron?" His mother questioned from behind him, but he didn't answer and wrenched open the door. Ignoring the cold, he ran over to the side of the Burrow to where his window was.

"No…" Ron knelt in the snow, raking his hand through his hair. "No, no…"

In front of him, a trail of footprints were leading away from the house, slowly getting erased by the gusts of wind.

_He's…gone._


	3. Chapter 3

**Again, I don't own Harry Potter. **

**I got a review from someone in my last chapter who questioned me about my story being cliché – I'm really sorry if that is the case, but this is my first fic and I wanted it to be nice and simple. Plus, I really liked this idea. So I'm really sorry but I guess it is going to be a cliche…**

**Hope you like the chapter anyway!**

"_This is really a haunted tree?" Harry asked, staring up at the great oak in front of them. Dudley smirked. _

"_Yeah. Not scared, are ya?" His cousin teased, nudging Harry. _

_Harry fell to the ground at the "nudge", his glasses hanging off one ear. He huffed. He was a big boy now – nine whole years old – he wasn't a scaredy-cat anymore._

"_No." Harry said, pushing himself off the wet ground that had been soaked in yesterday's shower. Dudley grinned, narrowing his eyes._

"_Good." He said, waddling closer to the tree. Harry followed. _

Harry shivered as a cold blast of wind tugged at his hoodie, making him stumble. He didn't even react as the memory resurfaced from the depths of his mind, but kept walking further and further away from The Burrow.

It got easier, he realised, to keep going the further away you got. At first, Harry wanted to climb back through the window and into the warmth but now, roughly half an hour later, the pull was loosening.

Harry wrapped his clothes closer to his chest to try and block the icy wind as another gust fought to knock him face first into the snow. Wiping small snowflakes off his glasses, he let out a relieved sigh as he saw a town come into view. Maybe he could grab some supplies from there. Or a coat.

_Harry touched the bark slowly with one finger, digging his nails into the cracks._

"_They say a man died here…" Dudley whispered, grinning. Harry tilted his head._

"_How do you know?" He asked. Dudley put on an almost believable act of innocence: widening his eyes and opening his mouth slightly. _

"_Don't you know the story?" The other nine year old gasped. Harry shook his head, his floppy fringe brushing over one eye. _

"_What story?"_

Harry tried not to make eye contact to any of the confused muggles as he entered the town. The snow ended from under his feet and was replaced by gravelled roads and chipped pavement. Slower now, he wondered past buildings, fingering the few loose knuts in his pocket. As more muggles stared, Harry backed into a darkened alleyway as he thought of what to do next.

_I could always…_his thoughts halted as he realised the hopelessness of his situation: no money, no place to stay, no food…

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting it drop over one eye. He let himself slide down the wall and onto the wet floor, feeling pretty sorry for himself.

_I have a right, don't I? _He thought angrily, _can Harry Potter feel sorry for himself for once? _

However, as he was ready to curl up into a tiny ball, the sight of a half eaten pink donut pushed a part of his mind that had been recently buried, back into light.

Harry stood up quickly, brushing off the dirt on his hoodie, and crept out of the alley, folding his arms as another cold blast tried to turn him inside out.

Rule number one of the Dursleys: don't feel sorry for yourself. It gets you nowhere.

Harry laughed suddenly at the irony of it all – he had actually learnt something whilst he had spent all those years at the Dursleys. Not only that, but he was now listening to it, and obeying what his nine year old self had realised all those years ago.

"_There once was a man," Dudley began dramatically, "that loved his wife a lot."_

_Despite his dislike for his cousin, Harry couldn't help but feel pulled towards his words. _

"_But one day, this man got taken away from his wife. He never saw her again." Dudley continued. Harry gasped. _

"_Why?" _

"'_Cos he killed someone."_

Harry kept close to the walls as he walked through the town, glancing at the brightly lit signs as he moved past. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he kept his head down as he trudged through the slush under his feet.

"Damn, why are there so many muggles around here?"

Harry's head shot up at the familiar voice, chest tightening in panic.

"Now, Molly dear, this _is _their home…" Mr Weasley's voice sounded close to Mrs Weasley's, and Harry's stomach gave another unpleasant jolt.

"But Arthur…we can't use magic in front of them!" Mrs Weasley's voice trembled slightly. "He could be anywhere…he could be hurt…he could've – "

"We will find Harry, I promise." Mr Weasley soothed. "He can't be far."

Mrs Weasley sniffed.

"Yes…you're right." She said. "Let's start looking…" Footsteps drew closer to Harry, and the raven-haired quickly searched the area for a hiding place. His eyes fell on a huge muggle supermarket.

Rule number two of the Dursleys: if you want to hide, hide in plain sight.

Running, Harry crossed the street and flung himself through the automatic doors, moving into the huge crowds of late shoppers. Weaving around the isles, Harry positioned himself so he He could see the entrance through the cereal boxes. To muggles, it would look like he was particularly interested in breakfast products, and not hiding from someone. Or so he hoped.

"_Killed someone?" Harry whispered blinking owlishly. Dudley grinned and nodded. Somewhere, through the awe, Harry knew Dudley was tricking him, but he pushed the thought away, wanting to hear the rest of the story. _

"_Yeah. With a knife." His cousin answered._

"_What happened next?" The raven-haired asked._

"_They tied him to this tree." Dudley's grin was huge now, reminding Harry of a shark he had seen in a library book. His piggy face was the picture of pure glee, but Harry wasn't sure why. _

"_Then what?"_

"_They got some matches…and set it on fire…" _

_Harry gasped._

"_No!" He cried out, eyes wide. Dudley nodded._

"_The man died, all shrivelled up!" His cousin's face was nothing short of joy. It was strange, as his face would always turn into a scowl whenever he was nearby. _

"_And they say, that if you stare deep into that hole there," Dudley's fat finger pointed back towards the old tree. "You can hear the man's screams." _

_Harry's curiosity got the better of him, and slowly he turned to look back at the tree. Then, a white hit pain flared at the back of his head, and he fell unconscious. _

Harry watched the entrance for a while, but Mr and Mrs Weasley didn't enter. They were still outside, searching for him…_worried _for him…

_This is stupid, _Harry thought, stepping out from behind the cereal isle. _I should go talk to them. _Immediately, he changed his mind. _No, they don't need me, do they?_

Harry let out a growl, causing a few muggles to glance at him warily. Cursing, he walked out of the supermarket and shivered in the cold. At least it had stopped snowing.

Harry coughed slightly. The sky had now fully darkened, and the streetlights had clicked on simultaneously. His breath had begun to fog in the cool air and he stuffed his hands into his pockets once more to try and warm them up.

Sighing, Harry walked down the thin pavement until he was on the outskirts of town again, slipping slightly on the ice.

_Harry woke suddenly, aware that he couldn't move. Panicking, he looked down and saw that he had been tied to the tree with several skipping ropes. He looked for help and saw Dudley standing in front of him, grinning with small piggy eyes. _

"_Let me out of here!" Harry cried out, but to his dismay, Dudley shook his head. _

"_I'm leaving you here!" He said triumphantly. "No one likes you, freak! No one is coming to get you!" _

"_Dudley!" Harry screamed, but Dudley only laughed. _

"_Have fun with the ghosts, Freak!"_

"_Please! Let me go!"_

Harry carried on walking, barely feeling the cold knife his cheek. His shoes and socks were beginning to get soaked with snow, but he stubbornly carried on, walking further away from the Burrow, further away from everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Harry Potter…**

**Sorry for the late update, but I'll try my best to keep it weekly. **

**Hope you like it! (Sorry if you don't.)**

"Gone? Ran away?" His mother's voice seemed far away, and Ron unsteadily stood up, snow soaking into his trousers. He felt tears burning in his eyes as he stared into the distance, hoping to see a figure.

"Yeah…I –" Ron didn't let his sentence finish, but started walking in what he hoped was the same direction Harry had.

"Ron!" His mother called and Ron felt her grasp his wrist. He tried to pull away. Didn't she understand? It was all his fault – he said those things, he _upset_ his friend to the point of running away…when had he left? Whilst Ron was eating, cursing all Harry Potter related thoughts in his head? When he slammed the door into Harry's expressionless – no, shocked – face?

"Stop! Mum!" Ron suddenly wrestled himself from her grasp, turning to face her. Tears were now running freely down his cheeks, and he was trembling slightly, wrapping his arms around himself to try and stop himself from falling apart. He knew he must look like a wreck, but she didn't understand – he _needed _to find Harry, he _needed _to apologise…or he could never forgive himself.

"Ron." His mum spoke gently, stepping back to give him space.

"I need to find him – I gotta…" Ron trailed off, wiping away some tears fiercely. The wind howled and made him stumble slightly. "It's my fault." He whispered. He turned away from him mum, not wanting to see the disgusted face she must be wearing.

_What kind of person am I? Certainly not a good son. _

"We argued and – " he broke off, feeling a lump rise in his throat. The words he had spat at Harry seemed to be echoing back at him now, louder and harsher. Harry's wounded expression – the one he hadn't bothered to read – was dashing back into his mind; for once, he wished he could hold his temper…if he had…

He was crying. In the middle of the snow in the yard, eyes stinging and hair tousled, he was crying loudly and uncontrollably.

Soft, warm arms suddenly gathered him into a hug that he had forgotten, acting as a barricade against the outside world. Ron melted into it, letting his head rest on his mother's shoulder and clutching her as if she was a lifeline. In a mess of snot and tears, Ron closed his eyes, relaxing in the embrace.

"I told him…horrible things…" Ron muttered, his face in her shoulder. "I…said that he didn't understand – he didn't know what it was like – having a family…I – "

"Shh…" his mother soothed, gently walking them inside. Ron hadn't even noticed they had been moving until he almost tripped on the threshold. He didn't protest when his mother didn't let go of him, but hugged him harder.

"Ron…" she said. Ron looked up and saw she wasn't actually mad at him like he thought she would be. Instead her eyes shone of worry and forgiveness. "I know you didn't mean it, I can see that easily. As long as you are regretting what you said – which you clearly are – then in my eyes, you never did anything wrong on the first place." She smiled slightly, brushing some snow out of his hair.

"Mum, I made him run away and now we don't know where he is!" Ron ran a hand through his hair. "What if never –"

"We will find him, Ronald." His mother said firmly.

"Find who?" His dad asked, walking into the room. He looked from his wife to his son, his slight smile fading into a frown. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Harry's gone missing." His mum said after Rom didn't answer. His father blinked for a few seconds, pushing up his glasses.

"What? Gone? Why?"

"He got upset." Ron breathed out a sigh of relief as his mother didn't elaborate. His dad, getting over some of the shock, furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

"We are going to look for him, I hope?" He said and Ron nodded. "Did he have his wand with him? Anything that might help us trace him?"

"I don't know dear." His mum turned to him. "Ron, did you – Ron!"

Ron ignored his mother's call and sprinted back up the stairs, flinging open the door. He heard Percy question behind him, but didn't answer, scanning the room, praying –

But there it was, holly wood and Phoenix feather, lying forgotten in the side of Ron's bed where Harry had been sitting a few hours before.

"You prat!" Ron shouted. He wasn't sure whether it was directed at himself or Harry. He picked up the wand and ran out of the room again, almost smashing into Percy.

"Ron!" His brother jumped out of the way, hastily straightening his glasses. "What on earth is going on?!" Again, Ron dismissed his brother's question and stumbled down the stairs; a few moments later he heard Percy follow. He jumped the last three steps and back into the living room. Bill and Charlie were now standing next to his parents, worry strained on both of their faces.

"If he has his wand I can cast a charm straight away that will tell us when he uses it, and where he is." Bill was explaining.

"That's what I thought." His father replied. "Ron went to check…"

"He…didn't take it." Ron said, holding out the wand. The adults turned in surprise, not realising who came down the stairs.

"Are you sure?" Bill asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Ron nodded slowly. His brother sighed, running a hand down his face.

"We still can find him, don't worry." Charlie smiled bravely, placing a hand around his mother's shoulder. "There's always the muggle ways."

"Find who?" Percy asked, looking from one adult to another.

"Harry. He's missing." Bill answered. Percy, like his father, blinked rapidly for a few seconds, processing the information.

"Why?" He stammered. "Out _there?_" He pointed to the window, where it shown the flurry of snowflakes. Ron looked down at his trainers. His mum, noticing his discomfort, pulled him closer to herself, and Ron didn't pull away.

"He'll come back though, right?" Percy sounded like he was reassuring himself. "Maybe he needed some air –"

"No, I don't think he wants to come back." Ron interrupted, feeling tears burn into his eyes again. He blinked them away, shrugging away his mother's hand.

"We need to find him, now!" He said, pulling on his coat from the hanger next to him. "I don't care if we don't know where he is –"

"Slow down, little bro." Charlie said, pulling him away from the door. Ron almost thumped him. Charlie seemed to read what he wanted to do. "We need to plan who's searching where so we can cover more ground."

"He's right." His father inputted. "Then we can find him quicker and get him back home."

"I'm going to tell F – I mean George and Ginny." Percy said after a few seconds silence, trying to be useful. He breathed in deeply through his nose. "I'm sure they would like to help." When no one argued, Percy nodded to himself and ran back upstairs, hammering on George's door.

"He'll be fine, little bro." Charlie said, following his gaze to the frosting widows. "I know he will." Ron didn't answer, feeling slightly sick.

_I'm going to drag him back here if I have to. _He vowed mentally to himself, ripping his eyes off the glass and to the wand in his hand. _He needs us as much as I need him._

—

"Meet back in five hours, remember?"

His family and Hermione were standing around the front door, Hermione holding his hand. His father was addressing them all, buttoning up his jacket. The buttons were uneven, but his dad was never really good with muggle clothing, but he had insisted on wearing them so they didn't attract attention (He, Ginny and Hermione had already been wearing them after playing quidditch earlier that day).

Ron nodded along with his brothers, gratefully squeezing Hermione's hand.

"And remember, if you find him, send a patronus." His father reminded and took his wife's hand. "Good luck." Then, with a loud _crack_, his parents apparated. Ron let go of Hermione's hand and turned slightly on the spot, feeling the familiar squeezing sensation throughout his body, as if he was moving through a tube.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and Ron found himself standing on top of a hill not too far from his home. He scanned the hill, stupidly hoping that Harry would be waiting there for him, but there was no sign of a familiar figure.

"Harry!" Ron called nevertheless, sliding down the hill. He strained his ears for an answer. "Harry!" He through the rest of the field, searching for his friend. He hoped that the snow would die off, but it seemed to be getting worse: Sure, it wasn't actually snowing anymore, but the wind was still icy and unpleasant.

Ron wasn't sure how much time had passed as he moved through each field. Throughout the search he clutched Harry's wand tighter and tighter until, at the end of the five hours searching, he was sure he was going to break it. Reluctantly, he apparated back to the Burrow, hoping that his family had better news than he had.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry if this chapter is a bit dull, but I'm having quite a writer's block right now. Sorry.**

**I disclaim.**

Harry was quite uncomfortable.

With something digging into his back and the feeling that his legs had with himself still attached, he was forced to open his eyes with a slight groan, yawning.

At first, for a fleeting moment, he thought he was in the Burrow, like he often had been: sharing Ron's room and tucked up into the covers. However, once the wind began to tug on his clothes and something cold drifted into his face, Harry decided to get up properly, not remembering fully where he was.

"I left that town…" his voice was scratchy after being unused for so long. It had only been a day, but the merciless weather made it seem like a lifetime. "And so…" Now he remembered. The next town was further away then he thought and, once it grew too dark to be able to see further than a few metres, Harry had to admit that he needed rest. So, he awkwardly settled for the night under a tree – unlike movies made it out to be, it was a lot more uncomfortable.

Harry's limbs cracked as he sat up, stretching. Another spot of cold fell into his cheek and, looking upwards, the raven-haired noted that it began to snow again.

_That's really the last thing that I need._

His left side was completely wet from the snow, which Harry predicted was one of the reasons he had woken up so abruptly – unpleasant chills were racing through his body, and his chest was beginning to feel like someone was pressing against it, making it slightly harder for him to breathe. Automatically, Harry's hand moved towards his jean pocket for his wand – a warming charm would help him for sure – but his fingers only grasped air. After a frantic search, a sense of dread settled upon him.

He had forgotten his wand.

Being without his wand made him feel weak; he was well-aware of the rouge Deatheaters that were probably making it their life mission to kill him, and without being able to defend himself he might as well walk up to them himself with his hands in the air.

There was also the problem with quick travel. Without a wand, he couldn't apparate – if he was found by anyone, he couldn't escape.

_But I can't be traced, right? _Harry remembered, wiping the snow from his glasses. _Without a wand I'm not tempted to cast any spells that the Ministry could trace. _

Harry was sure that the news of his disappearance would spread fast once in the wrong hands, and that meant the Ministry would soon be joining the great search for Harry Potter, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived.

_I'll be found in no time. _He thought grimly, placing his glasses back onto his face. Wincing, he pulled out the stone that had been digging into his back, pulling himself up using the tree branch. He coughed dryly for a few seconds, flinching as it made his throat feel like it was getting washed with sandpaper, and shivered.

"Where now?" Harry folded his arms against his sore chest and sniffed. To his relief, the weather seemed to have improved greatly from yesterday. Rubbing the slight ache that was emerging in his skull, he decided to keep moving away from the Burrow, and hope that he stumbled across another (and hopefully larger) town. He predicted he was quite close to muggle dwellings now, and hoped no one would look for him in such an obvious and cliché hiding place.

Harry walked for a while, shivering as his damp hoodie clung onto his body. The fields soon formed smooth paths that each lead over hills and beyond. Harry just kept waking forwards, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. The earlier morning sluggishness still hadn't left his mind, and he wondered briefly if he was coming down with a cold. It was bound to happen, seeing as he had _smartly _decided to sleep outside in the snow.

Eventually, as Harry's feet began to ache, a modern town came into view. Smiling slightly, the raven-haired walked between each building, stopping to push the door open of a coffee shop.

No one looked as Harry stepped inside, shrugging off the snow on his shoulders. He thought it was just as well – he probably looked a little strange, in short, with his dirt stained cheeks and his unconnected hair. Or the fact he was wearing a thin hoodie on a cold winter day.

Harry shuffled over, head bent, to the unoccupied table in the corner and sighed in pleasure as his hands began warming up in his lap. As he swung his leg over the seat, his foot slipped slightly on something, almost toppling him over. Curiously, Harry ducked under the table, finding a two pound coin. Grinning, he surfaced and looked over at the menu on the board. The coin wasn't enough to buy his something fancy, but it could buy him something to quench his thirst or hunger.

_Which is more important? _He tried to decide internally. _Food or water? _

Harry had gone hungry with the Dursleys plenty of times, and was often banned meals for a few days. However, he never had gone without water for more than a day, always sneaking off to the bathroom with a water bottle when he was imprisoned in his room.

"Are you gettin' anythin'?"

A tired, strained voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to find a waitress standing next to him with a bored expression on her face. Making up his mind, Harry nodded.

"Err…a bottle of water, please?" He requested. The waitress nodded and walked away.

Harry waited, drumming the coin on the table. Suddenly, just as the coin slipped from his fingers, he began to cough again harshly. Gasping, Harry clutched his chest with one hand and tried to muffle the sound with the other, clamping it over his mouth. Each cough made his head pound and throat burn, and he was glad when it had ended. With a groan, he rested his head in his hand.

_Great, now I've got a cold._

The waitress slammed the drink beside him and he pushed the coin over, absentmindedly unscrewing the lid. The sound of clinking coins told him that his change had been dropped beside him.

Sniffing, Harry drank half the bottle before getting up, beginning to feel some of the disapproving stares as the café became more busy.

Aimlessly, Harry walked through the town, picking up scraps from the bins, and decided to head to the park to kill some time. However, he spent most of his time looking over his shoulder or in suspicious shadows.

**I'm really sorry that this chapter was a little pointless but I'm really struggling right now.**

**My updates might be less common after this, so apologies**

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here you go – the next chapter! Hope you like this one!**

"Grimuald Place?"

"I checked there first."

"What about The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Done."

"The closest towns to us?"

"Me and George checked, Mum – he wasn't there."

Ron sank further into his chair as the conversation buzzed around him. It was now nearing the second day since Harry had ran away, and none of his family had found him.

"He's got to be somewhere!" His mother said, almost hysterically, as silence grew between each person. Ron looked up briefly, and, catching sight of his mum's tearful face, looked back down to his shoes.

"The problem is, where?" Charlie mused out loud, shifting slightly from one foot.

"Why can't we keep looking, Mum!" Ginny cried out, pacing. "It's cold out there, and we are all just sitting here!"

"Absolutely not!" His mum's voice began to sound like her old self, strong with a sense of authority. "You haven't even eaten yet, and we all have been searching none stop –"

"I don't mind." Percy said.

"Me neither." Charlie added.

"No." It wasn't his mum who answered this time, it was his father. Ron looked up, about to retort, but found no logical words apart from curses.

"Harry will be fine. I promise." His dad continued. "I know it is important to find him fast, but we cannot neglect ourselves."

"Dad's right." Bill defended before anyone could argue. "We'll all rest, and then we can take shifts to reduce the workload." His brother turned to his mum, earring swinging against his neck. "Is that alright?"

"Yes – thank you, Bill." His mum replied, pulling out her wand. The other Weasley's looked like they wanted to argue, so she hastily changed the subject. "Now, I'll just get us some food –"

"I want to keep looking for him. Now." Ron said, rising quickly. "I don't care about bloody food! He's my best mate!"

"You can't go out in that weather, Ron! Not without rest!" His mother argued, flicking her wand so aggressively that the bowls of soup she had summoned almost crashed into the opposite wall.

"And Harry's _also_ out there! Guess why?! BECAUSE OF ME!" Ron hit his soup bowl to the side, where it shattered on the floor.

"Ron – that's not true!" Hermione began, but Ron wasn't listening. He had been his fault, and now his friend – his best mate – was out in the cold – alone.

Probably dying.

"No!" He shouted, pushing the broken image of a limp Harry, half covered in snow, out of his mind. "I gotta find him before it's too late!"

_But what if it is? _

"Ron – be reasonable!"

"I. Don't. Care!" Ron shouted through gritted teeth, pulling on his coat. "I can't just_ sit here_ whilst Harry is out there –"

"Ron." Ron turned around, snarling, expecting to see his father, or maybe Bill's, too-calm face. However, he was confronted with George's eyes, still hollowed with grief. The room had now gone silent as Ron fought to control himself, and not to punch his brother in the face.

"I understand." George whispered simply, quietly, taking hold of his wrist. Ron's breath hitched as he remembered those were the exact words Harry had soothed him with on that dreadful day. And what had he said?

"_Do you?"_

"It's all my fault…" Ron whispered just as low. He tried to pull away. "I should have never said those things –"

"Ron. Sit down." George ordered. Slowly, a weak smile slid onto his face – something that Ron was sure he would never see. It was as if the rest of his family wasn't in the room at that moment. "It would be nice to not get pulled out the door by my git of a brother…"

"I'm not a git." Ron found himself protesting automatically, but he let himself get pushed towards the chair. George pushed him down, and managed to squeeze next to him, elbowing him slightly in the ribs.

"You're not gonna run away now?" His brother asked, shifting slightly in the chair. Ron wiggled a little, finding that he couldn't move that well.

"Guess not."

"We'll find him, so you can stop worrying your little socks off…" George responded, smiling slightly at him. Ron didn't return the smile, but didn't try and move again. He looked up and found that his family were all staring at him and George with identical, small Weasley smiles.

"_Reparo." _Charlie broke the silence, pointing his wand at the smashed bowl. The china fixed itself in mid-air, refilling with soup, and landed softly on Ron's lap.

"We'll look again tomorrow, when it is lighter." His dad suggested. When no one argued back, he added. "And if we don't find him then, we'll contact the Auror department."

Charlie and Bill nodded simultaneously before moving out of the room with the bowls in their hands, talking quietly.

The rest of his siblings (and Hermione) followed soon after, excluding George; he stayed next to Ron, casually summoning a spoon and sipping his soup.

Ron didn't bother with a spoon and drank the soup in one breath, tipping back the bowl and using it as a cup. George snorted slightly next to him.

"I'm not gonna stop you, you know." His brother said, licking his spoon. Ron turned to him with his mouth open.

"You won't?"

"Nah. If it'll stop you whining." George smiled slightly at him. "We – I mean _I _don't care."

"Thanks." Ron pulled himself out of the seat, making George almost spill his soup. From the dining room, low conversation could be heard.

"Bring Harry back this time, will you?" George asked just as Ron's hand brushed the handle. Ron nodded.

"I'm not coming back without him." He replied determinedly, pushing open the door and into the cold air. Shutting the door quietly behind him, Ron shivered as he walked down hill, before twisting on the spot and disappearing with a _crack_.

—

Harry had to be here.

He had to be.

Ron ran through the snow, trying to outrun the sky that was now darkening at an alarming rate. He leapt his vet a tree root and kept running, hardly stumbling as he entered the small town.

Ron had checked the closest town to The Burrow first, combing through the damp streets for a few hours, trying to spot a mass of raven hair amongst the small pockets of muggles. He had searched through every shop, every alley, every street – but Harry wasn't there. After retracing his steps, sure that Harry wasn't there, he apparated to the next town – the one he was currently running to now. Any further was impossible for Harry to travel in almost two days, especially without a wand and only wearing a thin hoodie.

The wind picked up dramatically all of a sudden, and Ron spat out a mouthful of snowflakes. Not caring what the muggles thought, he shouted out his friend's name as loud as he could, cupping his hands over his mouth.

"Harry!"

Ron scanned the closing shops, running past each one with a brief glance at the metal shutters cutting off each entrance.

"Harry!"

He weaved through the alleyways, through streets and even asked the remaining muggles if they had seen him. But it was as if Harry never existed.

"Harry!"

Ron kept running, panting. He was now moving out of the town again, bearing its borders. A small sign announcing the place was buried amongst a tangled hedge; Ron passed it before tripping and landing on his side.

"Harry…please…" Ron said, picking himself up into a kneeling position. Brushing his fringe out of his face, he pulled himself upwards, using the sign as a support.

Rubbing his eyes, Ron thought he could make out a small figure in the distance, hunched over from the wind. Ron moved closer, not daring to believe it.

"Harry?"

Through the snow, he saw the figure turn around, emerald eyes widening in surprise.

Harry Potter stood frozen for a few seconds, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

"_Ron?_"

**Any reviews would be appreciated- even if it is a smiley face to show that you like it or not…I just like to see whether you are liking this so far or not…**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I really hope you enjoy this chapter…**

**I'm sorry if Ron seems a little OOC but I needed that for the story to actually happen – so sorry if you don't like it, I really tried hard to make him seem as regretful as possible for his behaviour afterwards. **

**Thanks for reading!**

Harry stepped back slightly, shock evident on his face. As Harry stepped back Ron stepped forward, lifting his hand slightly.

Closer now, Ron could see that Harry wasn't in good shape: his eyes looked slightly glassed and they had big shadows under them. His friend's cheeks were slightly flushed and he was shivering violently, clutching his arms.

"Harry…" Ron tried to begin, but Harry shook his head, stumbling backwards.

"Stay…stay away from me…" Harry warned, coughing at the end of his sentence.

"No!" Ron didn't realise he had shouted until Harry flinched, stepping back again. "No…I'm not leaving you." Ron moved closer and was pleased when Harry didn't move away, but stared at him.

"Please leave." The raven-haired asked quietly, looking away. Ron shook his head, shivering slightly in the cold.

"Harry – I'm sorry."

Harry turned towards him suddenly, eyes widened slightly. Ron carried on, moving closer.

"I'm sorry that I said it was your fault…I'm sorry for blaming you. It's –"

"I get it, Ron." Harry interrupted, turning away again. To the redhead's horror, he began to slowly walk away. "I get that you need to apologise, but those things were true." His friend's voice broke slightly as he coughed again, his whole body wracking with the effort.

"Harry – I'm bringing you back to the Burrow." Ron ran over to him, tripping slightly. "Mate, I don't care how long it takes, I'm gonna make sure you know that nothing was your fault." Ron's fingers brushed Harry's wrist and Harry immediately sprang back, snatching his hand away.

"Leave me alone!" His voice was full of coldness and venom, something Ron had never heard in his friend before. However, despite his stance, Harry's legs were trembling out of exhaustion, and it looked like he was going to get knocked over by the wind any second.

_He's sick. _Ron realised, feeling the familiar crushing guilt wash over him once more. _He's sick because of me_.

"I…I don't want to go back to the Burrow. I'm not going back to the Burrow." Harry's voice rose until it was almost a scream. "I don't want to go back – I want to be left alone!"

"Well tough luck mate." Ron tried to grab Harry's wrist again but his friend jolted backwards, almost tripping over his own feet. "You're coming back!" Ron knew that this probably wasn't the best way to deal with a emotionally insecure Harry Potter, but his worry was escalating to the point where he wanted to stun his friend and apparate back to the Burrow – he probably would be doing that now if Harry wasn't sick.

Ron lunged for Harry again but Harry dodged and ran away without looking back. Again, Ron was at a complete loss – never in his life had he seen Harry run away from his problems, but now he was doing just that.

_I swear I'll make it up to you. _Ron began to sprint after the raven-haired, his heart hammering in his chest. _Just please let me help you. _

Usually, Harry was the faster of the two, despite his appearance, and could outrun Ron by a few strides. However, Ron had the advantage – he wasn't sick, and the adrenaline and worry pumping through his veins was enough to make him move twice his usual speed, his feet barely touching the snow.

Ron dived the last metre between them, and pulled Harry down by the shoulders. Together, they both fell to the ground, skidding through the powdered snow. Ron felt his wand slip out of his fingers and they landed, but he focused on keeping hold of Harry, who was squirming in his grip.

"_Ron!_ Stop!" Harry yelled, pushing him away with surprising strength. He tried to scramble to his feet but Ron pulled him down again so he was kneeling next to him.

"Harry calm down!" Ron was bewildered by the sudden burst of uncharacteristic behaviour as Harry thrashed in his arms, his breaths coming in short gasps. "Please!"

"No!"

A sudden burst of energy forced Ron away from Harry, and he flew through the air before landing hard on his side. For a moment he lay stunned, gasping.

_What the bloody hell just happened?_

It felt like he had been hit with a weak shield charm of hex similar to it.

_Accidental magic. _Ron realised.

After realising he was undamaged, he got to his feet and turned to where Harry had been.

If Harry didn't look awful before, he did now.

He too had been blasted away, and had landed a few metres opposite. However, unlike Ron, he hadn't got up, but was on his knees, trembling. He was hugging himself like he was holding himself together, and the shaking of his shoulders told Ron that Harry Potter – the bravest man he knew – was crying.

After a loud sob ripped through the air, Ron slowly walked closer, trying not to startle his friend. Silently, he knelt down next to him, unsure what to do.

"Sorry." Harry said through his tears, looking away. "I didn't mean to do that…I –" Harry didn't finish his sentence, breaking into a coughing fit. Making his decision, Ron carefully pressed his warm body against Harry's cold one, and pulled him into a hug.

Harry tensed in his arms, breathing heavily, but Ron let himself smile when he didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry…" Harry muttered, wiping his eyes fiercely. "I –"

"I'm the one that should be sorry, you prat!" Ron burst, subconsciously pulling his friend closer. "I said all those stupid things to you and didn't even bother apologising! What kind of guy am I, blaming his best mate for someone's death! I shouldn't have said that stuff…it all wasn't true!" Ron felt Harry tense further, as if he didn't fully believe him. He looked down and saw the raven-haired was looking up at him, his green eyes shadowed with disbelief and guilt.

"Harry, you're one of the bravest people I know." Ron corrected himself. "Forget it – you are the bravest person I know. You're always heading right into danger, you always listen to everyone else, you are stupidly selfless…you're my best mate." Ron felt tears prickle into his eyes. "But you are _not _a murderer."

"But I should've stopped it, Ron!" Harry pulled away from the hug, blinking rapidly. "I could've stopped it somehow, the battle didn't have to be in Hogwarts –"

"That is one of the stupidest things you've ever said to me, and I've heard a lot." Ron interrupted. "There was no way that You-Know-Who would've waited until you left. He could've killed any of us at any time, y'know, but we took that risk! And we won! You saved so many people, Harry! What do I have to do to nail it in your head?"

"I didn't save everyone though, did I?" Harry whispered, and Ron only just heard the comment above the wind whistling close to his ears.

"No human on earth could save everyone, you prat." Ron replied. He saw a tear run down Harry's cheek again, and to his surprise, his vision began to blur.

Ron pulled Harry into a hug again, tighter and more meaningful than the last. Harry melted into it, letting his head drop onto Ron's shoulder. Ron smiled, pulling his friend closer.

"When did you get so wise?" Harry muttered and Ron could hear the smile in his voice.

"I dunno…guess I've spent too much time around 'Mione." Ron laughed slightly. The wind picked up again suddenly, and both men shivered. Harry then began to cough again, his whole body lurching as he tried to fight for air. Ron immediately rubbed a hand on his back, and reached beside him to perform a warming charm; his fingers only brushed the snow, however, and the redhead remembered that both wands were lost in the white powder.

Harry coughed for a worryingly long time, and he was left in a gasping heap in Ron's arms. Ron found himself feeling Harry's forehead, and felt heat burning beneath his fingers.

"Come on, then." Ron forced the concern out of his voice as he spoke to Harry, still rubbing his back. "Let's go home." To his surprise, Harry shook his head.

"I don't wanna go there yet." He muttered.

"Why not?"

"Wouldn't they be mad at me?" Harry blushed afterwards after realising how childish the question sounded. "Err…its just that I'm not really apart of your…"

"They're worried sick about you, mate." Ron said, smiling. Harry looked up, his eyes round.

"Worried?" Harry sounded slightly surprised. Ron nodded.

"I kinda left without permission, so they're probably frettin' about me and all." Harry smiled before shivering again. The smile slowly faded from his face and he looked lost in thought.

"The Dursleys never worried about me."

"Never?" Ron asked, surprised. A large flare of anger erupted in his chest when Harry nodded.

"Not even when Dudley tied me to a tree."

"_Tied you to a tree?!_" Ron knew he should get Harry back to the Burrow, but curiosity got the better of him.

"Yeah…" Harry let his head rest against Ron's shoulder again, and Ron quickly wrapped them both in his coat as another gust of wind hit them.

"Me and Dudley went to this park, once." Harry began, smiling slightly as the coat covered his shoulders. "I shouldn't have gone but my Aunt was cleaning and didn't want me in the house.

We came across a tree on the way, and Dudley must've caught me staring at it – it looked pretty creepy – so he made up this story about a guy who died there. I was nine at the time, so I believed every word." Harry closed his eyes and relaxed further next to Ron. Slightly quieter, he carried on.

"And he tricked me into turning away from him, and then he knocked me out." Ron hissed in sympathy. "Yeah, even when he was nine he could knock people out in one blow.

Anyway, when I woke up, he had me tied to the tree, and walked away. I was scared after hearing the story, because I thought the ghost was going to get me. I was there all day." Harry coughed again weakly, panting.

"And when my Aunt came to get me, she complained that I made too much noise, and I was going to alert the neighbours. She took me back home, and then locked me in my cupboard as a punishment for being "overdramatic".

"Yeah, but your aunt was a bitch, mate." Ron said after a few seconds silence. "She was one of a kind."

Harry laughed weakly, keeping his eyes closed. His breathing had became shallower, and Ron remembered why they were wrapped up in a coat in the first place.

A gust of wind and snow, much more brutal then the rest, made Ron curse and shiver violently; Harry, however, didn't react, and stayed in the same position.

"Harry." Ron felt his stomach drop as the worry rushed back towards him in waves. Harry didn't stir at his name. "Harry!" Ron called, louder. Harry opened his eyes a crack, and Ron saw that they were clouded with fever.

Ron quickly felt Harry's limbs, and found that they were as almost as cold as the snow he was sitting on. However, when he felt Harry's forehead, he was shocked to find that he was burning up.

"Harry – we're going back home. We're gonna get warm, don't worry."

Harry nodded slightly.

"Ok." Ron gently took off his coat and slipped it onto Harry's weakened form, shivering as the cold brought goosebumps to his arms. He spotted his and Harry's wand a few metres away from them, and reached out, shifting Harry slightly in his grip.

"Gotcha." Ron hooked his fingers around the wood, pocketing Harry's wand and putting his in his mouth.

Gently, he picked Harry up and turned on the spot, a clear image of the Burrow in his mind.

**I'm sorry if Harry and Ron seem a little OOC, but it kinda just happened…**

**Please review if you liked it, or suggest improvements if you weren't a fan.**

**Thanks!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I hope you like this chapter…**

**On with the story!**

Ron landed a few metres away from his home, and he nearly toppled over into the snow. Looking down, he saw that Harry had passed out in his arms, his head leaning against his chest. Pulling his friend closer to himself, Ron began to walk towards the front door, occasionally whispering reassurances into the night air.

Ron could hear his family before he managed to make it to the front step, talking in loud voices.

"You let him go!"

"Yes, Mum…you must've said that thirty times…"

"But he's not back yet!"

"Mum – you know Ron – he's not gonna come back until he has Harry."

"But its so cold…"

"Molly, my dear…all we can do is wait."

Ron pushed open the front door with his shoulder, making Harry mutter incoherently.

"Sorry, mate." Ron muttered, running as fast as he could into the kitchen, where most of his family seemed to be located.

"Mum!" He yelled, bursting into the room. He knew he must look a sight: snow caught in his hair and all over his clothes and a limp Harry in his arms.

Once he entered, his family turned simultaneously to look at him, and for a moment no one moved. Ron stood there, panting and a few tears running down his face.

"Move him to the living room – quickly." His mother snapped into action, pushing through her children to look closer at Harry. Ron nodded, carefully lowering his friend onto the worn couch. His mother was by his side a few moments later, holding some bottles of potion.

"Get this down you." His mother thrust the smaller bottle into Ron's hand, which he recognised as Pepper-up potion. Nodding gratefully, he downed the potion, sighing as he felt warm shivers travel to his toes and fingertips.

"Come on, dear – your turn." His mum was now gently pushing the same potion, but larger, to Harry's lips. Harry stirred, opening his eyes a crack. He smiled slightly at the sight of Ron's mother, but it quickly slipped away as he doubled over into another coughing fit. Ron immediately knelt beside his friend, rubbing his back. His mother propped his head up, muttering words of comfort like she had done for Ron when he was young.

"Harry, dear…sounds like you have got quite a cough there." Ron noticed that, despite his mum's smile and soft words, that worry glittered behind her eyes.

It seemed like hours, but was actually minutes, before Harry's coughing stopped; Harry himself was left trembling and sweating, his eyes glazed with fever. Ron felt useless, and could only smile at him whenever Harry looked his way as his mother summoned many more potions and blankets.

By now his whole family (and Hermione) has gathered in the room, expressions full of concern. George was carrying a wet flannel in his hands, and his father was standing behind him with a glass of water. His mother didn't seem to notice, her eyes only for the raven-haired, who now was breathing in shallowly.

"Harry, I need you to drink this." She said, pushing the bottle against his mouth. Harry moaned, tilting his head away. "Please." She pressed the bottle firmer against his lips. With another moan, Harry opened his mouth and the potion leaked in. Ron watched as his friend visibly relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders. His eyes, however, still looked clouded and confused, staring into nothing.

"Harry?" Ron asked, shaking his shoulder lightly. Harry didn't reply, his eyes fluttering shut.

"He's just tired, Ron." His mother said, seeing her son's worried face. Ron didn't reply, but taking his eyes off Harry's sleeping form. His mother then placed the wet flannel on his forehead, gently wiping the sweat from his brow. They stood silently for a few minutes, watching Harry draw in shaky breaths.

"What the hell happened, Ron?" George broke the silence, releasing a bombard of hushed questions from the rest of his family.

"Where did you find him?"

"_How _did you find him?"

"How did he get like this?"

"I found him, okay?" Ron burst, regretting it immediately; they all looked over at Harry, who shifted slightly, but didn't awaken.

"I…looked around on the outskirts of towns…and he was there." Ron kept staring at his feet, finding it much easier to stare at his laces. Something private had happened between Harry and himself, something that had brought them closer – sure, they were as thick as thieves; Harry would always have his back, and he would always have Harry's. But Ron knew that they had become impossibly closer still, and Harry wouldn't want anything shared between anyone else.

"And we talked it out." Ron said simply. He suddenly remembered the accidental magic that had happened. "Dad?"

"Yes?" His father replied, quite surprised by the sudden question.

"Err…before we made up…I think Harry used some magic. Without a wand. By accident. Is that…normal?"

His father hummed in thought as his siblings looked at Ron with curiosity.

"It can happen sometimes…if he was panicked…" his dad eventually replied, still deep in thought.

"I've never heard of that before…" Hermione said, biting her lip. His dad hummed in agreement.

"Yes…it is very rare…but Harry _is _a powerful wizard, so it is entirely possible."

"Sshh!" His mum interrupted before the conversation could continue. Ron looked over and saw that Harry looked more uncomfortable, and his eyes were open again.

"How do you feel?" Ron asked, moving to his friend's side quickly. Harry swallowed thickly, coughing slightly.

"Like Hagrid is sitting on my chest." He replied quietly, shifting slightly. Ron grinned at Harry's slight smile.

"Anything else, dear?" His mother asked.

"Cold." Harry shivered, curling in on himself. His mum nodded, pursing her lips. Quietly, she murmured a spell, waving her wand over his friend's body. Golden numbers appeared at the wand tip. 103.4

"103.4 degrees…" His mother looked at Harry again. He heard Bill whisper "shit" behind him at the sight of the temperature.

"Are you sure you're cold, dear?" She asked. Harry nodded slightly. "Ok…anything else?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

"Tired." He muttered, shivering again. His mother tried to smile, but there was no mistaking the concern behind the mask.

"You get some rest."

Harry fell asleep almost immediately, still trembling.

"What do we do now, Mum?" Percy asked, slightly pale. His mother shook her head sadly.

"We just have too keep his fever down for now." She answered. "And hope it doesn't rise anymore."

"I'll get another flannel." George said, practically running out of the room. Ron stayed by Harry's side, listening as his breathing got slowly worse.

"He will be alright, won't he Mum?" He asked.

"I don't know." She replied, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I just don't know."

Ron nodded, gritting his teeth.

As the clock ticked on the wall, Ron let his thoughts wander, not realising that his parents had left the the room. It wasn't often that he was alone in a room – and he found he didn't like the silence that stretched on. He looked over at Harry again, noticing with relief that he seemed for relaxed, and straightened the flannel on his head. He pulled the holly wood wand from his pocket and placed it beside his owner.

"Thought you might want this back." He said. He thought he heard Harry hum in response.

**Sorry for the short chapter…I've been quite busy lately. The next chapter will probably be the last.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**This might be the last chapter…idk sorry. I hope you like this one!**

Ron lay at the end of the bed, running a trembling hand across his face. The white sheets under him creased at the motion, and the redhead had an unexplainable urge to chuck them across the room. The desire died as quickly as it came, however, leaving Ron staring at the ceiling, the wall – anything apart from _him_.

"Ron?" The door creaked open, and the familiar figure of his mother silhouetted against the doorway, her eyes sparkling with undisguised concern.

"What?" He mumbled, laying his head down in his hands. For a moment he caught sight of messy, raven hair, shadowed, closed eyes –

"Come and eat, sweetheart." His mum asked, not hiding the desperation in her voice. "You haven't eaten in days and –"

"Not hungry." Ron interrupted, curling up in the plastic hospital chair.

"_Ron." _

"Leave me alone." He snapped, regretting it instantly. What hurt more, however, was his mother's silence.

"I can see you want to be alone, honey." His mother eventually said into the awkward silence, her voice quiet and pitying. Ron hated that voice. "But take care of yourself, please."

Ron almost snorted at her last comment, not looking up as her as she left the room. Next to him, he could smell the scent of one of his mother's famous pasta dishes, and usually his mouth would be watering right now. Instead, he pushed it away, closing his eyes. He'd rather see nothing than have to see –

He was crying. Tears leaking out of his eyes, he was forced to open them, and through the blurry images was the one thing he didn't want to look at, the thing he couldn't bring himself to look at.

Harry's eyes were closed in what people would often describe as a peaceful way, with his long lashes covering up some of the bags under his eyes. His skin was dry and looked paper thin, still stained with dirt from those nights before. An oxygen mask was secured over his nose and mouth – the healer said that it helped him breathe, but Ron thought it looked like his friend was being suffocated, not helped. Many tubes were pierced into his arms, connecting to bags that hung off poles; each one left a small red ring around Harry's naturally tanned skin; it looked wrong and painful, and Ron desperately wanted to rip them out – he probably would, if he didn't know they were keeping his friend alive.

Harry's breathing was quieter now – too quiet, and every breath sounded weary and strenuous, like each one would be his last. Despite the burning fever, the raven-haired's hands were cold when Ron clasped them, just like he had done when his father announced that Harry was too sick, and needed to go to St Mungo's.

Ron had been asleep when Harry's fever spiked, and he stopped breathing altogether. With the exhaustion weighing on top of his shoulders, Ron had let his eyes slip closed, resting his head on the armrest. Harry had seemed to be getting better; his fever had lowered, thanks to cold flannels and potions, and though his breathing was shallow, it was more stable. Ron let himself hope that Harry would be okay, like he always was.

Ron was woken up with a flailing arm in his face, smacking him on the nose. Angrily, he sat up, ready to throw something at one of his siblings, but no one was in the room.

A fit of coughs made him turn his head hard enough for whiplash, and his eyes widened at the sight of Harry thrashing on the sofa.

"Mum!" Ron yelled, moving to the front of the sofa. Ron could see that his friend was covered in sweat, and his breathing was now coming in short gasps. Each cough racked his broken frame, and Ron placed a hand on his forehead, recoiling immediately.

"Mum!" Ron yelled, but his mother ran into the room, a bundle of potions in her hand. She nearly dropped them all at the sight of Harry, looking half dead.

"Arthur!" His mother called, dropping to her knees by the raven-haired boy, casting her potions to the side. Harry's coughs had now calmed down, but his breathing was getting quicker and more desperate.

"What's wrong with him?!" Ron asked, trying to hold Harry's arms down. His mother didn't answer; eyebrows furrowed, she muttered a spell under her breath, waving her wand gently above Harry. Small, golden figures appeared above him, and his mum gasped, pulling out potions.

104.

Ron didn't even know that anyone else was in the room until he heard several hissed curses behind him. Looking around, he saw that all of his family and Hermione were staring through the door, their faces pale. Hermione and Ginny were crying, and the others looked close to it.

"Molly –" his dad pushed through the crowd, staring at the small numbers. "His temperature –"

"I know." His mother was now busily trying to encourage a potion down Harry's throat. Harry was having none of it, weakly tilting his head away.

"Harry –" his mother whispered, voice breaking. "Please…"

Harry suddenly broke into another set of coughs that made his entire body shudder. With horror, Ron watched as blood leaked out of his mouth and stained the sofa.

"I'm flooing St Mungo's." His dad had said, dashing to the fire. Ron took hold of Harry's frozen hand, weaving its fingers through his.

"Come on Harry…" Ron muttered. A warmer, smaller hand was placed on his shoulder and he automatically knew it was Hermione's; slowly he wrapped his free arm around her, letting her lean against his chest.

And, in a blink, Harry stopped breathing.

Ragged breaths suddenly cut off, leaving the whole room in silence. There was a moment where no one realised. But then he did.

"Harry!" Ron yelled as his mother reeled back in shock. Charlie jumped as if he'd been electrocuted and swept down to Harry's side, pressing his hands down on his chest in a desperate attempt to revive him. Hermione let our a dry sob next to him whilst Ginny ran to hug Bill; George and Percy just looked dumbstruck.

Ron watched as Charlie pressed down rhythmically on Harry's chest a few more times before blowing softly into his slightly open mouth, pinching his nose.

"No…no…" Ron didn't realise he was moaning until Hermione hugged him harder.

Then, as Harry let out a sudden gasp of air once more, as his mother began to cry, his father came into the room, followed by a group of healers.

Ron felt Harry's fingers twitch beneath him, and he forced his mind back into the present. After watching Harry for a few tense moments, he sunk low on his chair, letting the hand go. Thoughts swirled around his mind in one feverish haze; thoughts of doubt, fear and guilt.

"Harry…" Ron muttered, glancing quickly out of the window to see if anyone was watching in the hall. No one was there. "Harry, I…" he swallowed thickly, turning away from his friend's still face.

"Sorry for doin' this to you, mate." Ron finished lamely, sighing. "I don't care if you hate me for the rest of my life, I just want you to be okay, like you always are. At least, so I thought." Ron let out a shaky breath, watching the ceiling. Unconsciously, he nibbled a piece of bread that had accompanied his plate of pasta.

"So yeah. Get better." Ron put his free hand back onto the bedsheets. In a whisper, he added. "Or I don't know what I'll do."

Ron almost had a heart attack when he felt two light taps on his hand, and subconsciously grabbed the wand in his pocket. Turning to his hand, he saw that another, darker one lay next to it, the skin brushing next to his. Slowly, his eyes travelled upwards until he met the very much open and awake eyes of Harry Potter, who was now raising an eyebrow slightly at him.

"Harry!" Ron breathed, scraping his chair closer to the bed. He ran his hand through his hair in excitement. "Your awake!"

Though Harry couldn't speak through the oxygen mask, his eyes gave a clear reply of "well done."

Ron snorted, taking another bite out of his bread. Suddenly, he was very hungry.

"How do you feel?" Ron asked through a mouthful of bread, making Harry scrunch his eyes up in disgust. Holding back a laugh that would send bread flying, Ron remembered his friend's disapproval of his manners.

Harry then shrugged slightly, raising trembling hands to hold up six fingers.

"Six? Wha? Oh, out of ten." Ron realised and Harry nodded slightly. Despite the high number, Ron was relieved it wasn't as bad as before. "So better than before, yeah?" Harry nodded, and tried to say something else with his hands. It was like a bad game of charades.

"Hang on." Ron waved his wand, summoning his notebook and pencil. He handed it to Harry. "Write away."

Ron saw Harry smiled weakly under the mask, and he slowly began to write. His tiredness made his writing sloppy and uneven, but Ron still tried to read it over his shoulder.

"How…how are…what on earth is that supposed to be?!" He burst out, laughing at the scribble on the sheet. Grinning under the mask, Harry weakly swatted Ron with the notebook, and the pencil went flying to the opposite wall.

"Oh now you've done it." Ron grinned. "Don't expect me to be any nicer to a sick Harry Potter." Gently, Ron hit Harry back with the book on the forehead, messing up his hair. Harry grabbed the book and they both wrestled over it, Ron taking care to not be too boisterous. As Ron summoned the pen to draw a moustache on Harry's face, two healers walked in, his family close behind.


	10. Chapter 10

**This is the last chapter, so I really hope you like it. Thanks for all of those people who have reviewed or even just read this story, it really helps.**

Harry grinned, wrapping Ron's bedsheet around his shoulders. Ron was ranting in front of him, pacing around the small bedroom in what Harry guessed was complete panic.

"Dunk it in the lake, Harry!" His friend repeated, thinking that if he said the words again the problem will simply disappear into thin air. "He said he was going to sink it right to the bottom! Just because I borrowed his wand fur a few seconds!"

"Ron you know we stole the wand. You and I hid under the invisibility cloak. If that's not stealing, I don't know what is." Harry pointed out unhelpfully, tugging the sheets closer to his chest.

If had been just over a week since Harry had been allowed to leave St Mungo's, and though he felt much better that he had in days, he still had quite a chest cough and cold breezes still bothered him, making him shiver unpleasantly each time a door had been left open. He was also having to take three potions each day, once in the morning and once at night, to fully rid himself of the pneumonia that had almost killed him. Though he was recovering at What the healer said was "a great speed", Harry still was annoyed at the fact that he was unsteady in his feet and was a lot drowsier than he ever had been, tiring quickly after a walk up some steep stairs.

But what Harry found the most infuriating was the fact that Mrs Weasley would not let him take one foot outside.

All the other Weasley's were supporting her, which made matters worse, and took their roles so seriously that it was accepted to see a redhead walk across the room with a very miserable Harry sling over their shoulder, or getting dragged into the living room after receiving a full Body-Bind jinx. Mrs Weasley has the whole family on her side, and unless Harry could become a highly skilled escape artist in secret, there was no chance of him getting out.

Deep down (or maybe not so deep) he was touched by the Weasley's stubborn caring they had treated him with. It almost felt like Harry was one of them, and Harry almost hoped that the Weasley's saw him as that too.

If Ron hadn't been there to entertain him, Harry was sure he would've died of boredom. But with the chess games, competitions and duelling practice that the two had been doing, he never had a dull moment. Most evenings, they would spend the last hours joking and exchanging stories in the bedroom, laughing loudly way into the early hours of the morning.

"He doesn't need to know that!" Ron said, flopping onto the bed.

"I think he already does." Harry laughed, coughing slightly at the end. "George isn't stupid. He saw our feet as we made a run for it."

"He shouldn't have hidden _my _wand then." Ron pouted, sitting up. "Budge up." He said and Harry obeyed, shuffling to the end of the bed. They sat in a thoughtful silence for some while, both trying to think a way out of the situation.

"My poor broom…" Ron muttered mournfully, staring out of the window. "Lost in the lake forever…"

"It will become the stuff of legends." Harry added.

"Passed down from generation to generation…"

"…a quest to find the drowned broom, tragically sacrificed…"

"…lying at the bottom of a lakebed…"

"…only to be found by a muggle fisherman…" Harry snorted at the end of his sentence.

"And then he'll use it to sweep the flaws for the rest of its days…" Ron finished, giggling quietly. Both men imagined the mournful image, and burst out laughing. Harry laughed until his chest ached, clutching his side. Unfortunately for him, his lungs decided that laughing was too much effort, and broke into a coughing fit. Harry doubled over, now regretting letting himself be out of breath.

The coughs were nowhere near as bad as they were, but they still hurt and made his eyes water.

Eventually, he managed to stop, gasping and wrapping the sheet around himself tighter. Ron had moved next to him at some point, and now was patting his back in a very Ron-like way.

"Ouch." Harry muttered, massaging his ribs. Ron let go of his back.

"And you wonder why you can't go outside." Ron said, and Harry could practically hear the raised, critical eyebrow.

"Oh ha ha…" Harry smiled. "Y'know, you're really beginning to sound like your mum." Ron gasped in mock outrage, pushing Harry lightly on the shoulder.

"Ron!" Harry gasped dramatically, gripping his shoulder. "Now, What would your dear mother say?!"

Ron, with a sly grin, suddenly pounced on top of Harry, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Harry laughed, rolling Ron off his chest and pinning him on the carpet. He grabbed a dirty sock from under the bed and tried to shove it into his face. Ron yelled and grabbed Harry's arms, wrestling them away from his face. Harry heard the door open and automatically looked up to see Hermione standing in the doorway, looking down at them with a amused expression. Ron, seeing his chance, easily flipped Harry over and starched the sock from his hand, forcing it onto the raven-haired's face.

"No!" Harry yelled, his cry muffled by a mouthful of sock. He heard Hermione gasp disapprovingly above him.

"Ron!"

"He started it!"

Harry spat out the sock, trying to wiggle out from under Ron.

"Did not! He hit me!"

"A slight nudge is what I recall it as being."

"You guys…" Hermione sighed, but was smiling. "I honestly will never try and understand you."

Harry felt Ron's grip slacken, and pulled himself out, gasping.

"Anyway…" Hermione began to say, and held out a hand. Harry took it gratefully, grinning.

"Don't I get any help?!" Ron said, shaking his head mournfully. He looked at Hermione, eyes full of apparent betrayal. "And I thought you loved me…"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Unbelievable." She muttered, but all the same held out her hand. Ron took it, unable to hide his smile.

"As I was saying," Hermione sat on the bed followed by Ron. Harry budged over for them, grabbing his sheet again. The cold was making him shiver, and it was really annoying.

"I heard that George was going to drown your broom." She said, smiling.

"Yeah…" Ron said gloomily. "It's _tragic._"

"Is there any way we can save it?" Harry asked, drawing up his knees. Hermione looked at them both with the all-knowing face that Harry had seen many times over the years.

"What?" Both he and Ron asked together. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You could just summon it afterwards, you guys know that right?" She paused, looking at their shocked faces. "No, I don't think you did."

"'Mione, What would we do without you?" Ron said, relief spreading across his face.

"Be shoving more socks into faces, I expect." She replied, and Harry grinned.

"Probably." He said, leaning against the wall. His eyelids were becoming heavy, and as annoying as it was, he had suddenly become tired after the scuffle he and Ron had. It didn't help that the potions made him tired as it was.

Sighing, he wrapped the blanket around himself, breathing in the comforting scent of the Burrow, and listened as Hermione and Ron talked, letting their words wash over him.

"Why did George even steal your wand in the first place?"

"I kinda…ate his pudding, maybe?"

"Ron, you greedy oaf, you know that George –"

"I was hungry! And he wasn't coming back anytime soon so…"

"_Ron!"_

"Come on, you would've done that too!"

"No, no I wouldn't have."

"You're stupid, then."

Harry shut his eyes, smiling as he felt himself get pulled into sleep. Never, in any point in his life, had he felt like this – safe, calm, carefree…later, he would recall this day as the best he had in a long time.

As Ron and Hermione's voices dulled against his ears, he let himself relax, his grin turning into a soft smile.

All was well.

**Ta da! Well, that's the end. **

**Bye.**


End file.
